


We Don't Have to Fight It

by HopeisNope4



Category: Original Work
Genre: ATTENTION, Asexual, Asexual Character, Because who the hell likes functional relationships, Dysfunctional Relationship, Explicit Language, I barely know what's going on, I cannot stress enough how frustrated/intimate this is, If you don’t know anything about being asexual turn back here, If you have please send it to me, Intense intimacy, Like you don’t have to but you wont know whats going on I stg, M/M, Massage, Mildly Dubious Consent, Original Character(s), Peter is the definition of sexual frustration, Semi-romantic Relationship, They pretend they're angry, Tons of biblical references, Touch-Starved, Touching, Whispering, You probably haven't read anything like this, but not in a sexy way, casual use of the r word because Peter is learning, no beta we die like men, no sex here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:47:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26224405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopeisNope4/pseuds/HopeisNope4
Summary: Peter is a computer consciousness placed into the body of a man. As an AI, the world comes off a little differently now that he’s made of something more solid than 1’s and 0’s. And he can’t seem to revoke the desire to learn about every possible thing he can worm his way into. Jude, his roommate, just wants the privacy to wallow in his own self-pity. Peter just can’t help himself.
Kudos: 2





	We Don't Have to Fight It

**Author's Note:**

> This piece is intentionally experimental as far as topic and general character psychology. It was also used as a practice for the novel that will be written about the two characters at a later date. When it is ready it will be available in my works. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy my take on an asexual relationship. I know it probably isn’t the smut you wanted but you might find it to be more than you expected ~ 
> 
> Songs to listen to while reading this…  
> Grow till tall - Jonsi  
> Last Night I Dreamt - Low  
> Pure as Snow - Mono  
> There’s a possibility - Lykke Li  
> Alternate World - Son Lux
> 
> “If a man also lie with mankind, both of them have committed an abomination: They shall surely be put to death,”

Humans, Peter found, tended to adhere to schedule above all else. Their entire culture endorsed it, bowed to it as men and women from every creed and society woke at dawn so they might make it to work on time, return home near the end of the day, and eat before resting for the night. And it seemed callow, juvenile in its shallowness: why would anyone want to repeat the same pattern of sterile repetition day after day after day? And it was a thought that stayed with him for the following weeks that turned into months, finding himself in an easy loop. 

Every morning Peter would wake up, forced out of bed by Jude who would pour milk into his cereal and put his toast on a plate. He dressed in black slacks, dress shoes, and a white button-down, clothes he would never have chosen for himself- at least he doesn't think he would. After working a shift far too long with not enough money to be satisfying he would walk back to what he now found himself referring to as 'home'. And an odd phrase it was, especially when he caught himself saying it aloud. Every day at a quarter after five o’clock he would open the door to their apartment, winded from climbing the stairs. Jude would make fun of this. They would sit on the couch and eat frozen pizza, mac n’ cheese, or any other odd delicacy that cost less than probably necessary, still little enough that they could afford rent comfortably. They would watch movies on Goflix Prime, then complain about each other's taste in almost everything until they were too tired of eachother to even spare a glance. And then Peter would return to his room to sleep, dream horrific dreams, and sleep in empty darkness. 

Then do it all again. And this was supposedly it: The human experience. How utterly and abashedly… disappointing. Wasn’t there supposed to be some kind of tantalizing adventure, vampires and outer space and a forbidden romance where one of them freezes in the ocean and the other is too selfish to share the raft they're laying on? 

But to say that this existence was completely a bore would also be a lie, as every blue moon or so, perhaps even every day, there was always one variation or another. Even if this deviation was no more than his co-worker Hannah being especially nice to him or Jude’s sister sending him an especially bad meme, his own sister confiding in him over a death he could not comprehend. There was always one thing or another that really made it so that no two days could ever possibly be two duplicates. With overarching events replaying over and over like some sick episode of Tuesday from the show about two demon hunters, Sunday became… a day of awakening. His day off was always the strangest day of the week due to its lack of repetition. 

On Saturday Jude would begin his ritual drinking early, sometimes even Friday. Peter would receive volumes of messages begging him to attend parties and dinner meet ups, all of which he declined. Too much work pretending to know such a large quantity of people who he would likely find bothersome. By the time Jude woke up Sunday morning he was tired and ill, sleeping off the aching of hung over bones- wilted like a plant without water. This was another thing he hadn’t understood about humans, why swallow poison for a few empty hours of dull and dragging semi-consciousness? Perhaps that was simply one more thing he would never be able to empathize with fully. There were seemingly endless things to know about drugs and alcohol, technology, sex, food, and other social practices. 

And Jude, he was a puzzle of his own kind, singular and set aside with complexity that probably had something to do with his vicinity. While predictable in all ways that were entirely human, there was an ineffable state about him that Peter could never quite gage. There were points of time like pricking pins that snagged his mind- hooks, rather- moments that were glances and the brush of a hand or an indiscrete smile, a worried glance that should have been engrossed with apathy. Every once in a great while the stream of steady platitudes and greyness would be shattered by a suggestion in the back of Peter’s mind that alluded to something far from casual. 

He didn’t want this to be like the alcohol. A plain curiosity dug into him like an infestation, begging adamantly and certain. There was something he had missed. He kept his eyes on Jude, hoping very much that it wasn’t in vain. 

-

Jude laid on the bathroom floor in complete and flawless amity, immaculate and with just enough dissatisfaction to drive him forward- the tile under him pricked cold like pins,

his hands crept down his torso in a benign manner, amiable. Ample pleasure rolled over Jude in waves as he sat in the dark of the bathroom, alone and focussing on the coasting sound of the fan above him. There was was a missing richness however that couldn’t be quenched by mere smoothing of skin as if it were some fabric that needed ironing. Jude plowed deeper in its stead, imagining briefly that the hands were not his own- then stopped himself. Who on earth could give him better? Who knew how to maximize his pleasure better than he? And who could he dare to dream would know the exact brand of pain and combined pleasure his inner subconscious demanded? 

He prayed that he would never find such a person, as they would be fit to mold him like clay, and demand due submission to their every whim. But the fantasy still played in his mind every once in a great while, locking himself in a dark room, playing this character for himself. He dug his nails into the muscle of his own side, licking his palm and gracing it along gooseflesh. The coldness of bathroom tiles and flowing air made it sweet as candy, cotton, and springtime. But it wasn’t the same as being touched by another, that was a bliss he could not replicate. So all he had was the mind’s eye that fed him a false narrative through a mouth that was the desire to see that which it hungered for. Each thin finger crept along a path of its own free will, the skin under each one carefully sensing, predicting the path which-

The light scorched Jude and he cowered in his spot, heart lurching as he huddled into a ball against the side of the bathtub. The door was locked- he swore the door was locked- Peter stood still. Jude glanced at the handle, cursing as if it had done him some insufferable deed. Then they locked eyes. 

Peter couldn’t stop himself from absorbing the sight of a pale and lanky creature, bare down to his hips and covered only by underwear. But as soon as the image hit him it was gone because a part of the back of his mind had the sense to move his body without consent, turning, closing the door, and letting out the breath he hadn’t meant to hold. But the image flashed before him against his will, playing with the shape of a face and an indescribable emotion that resembled shame. What a terribly human thing that was: to feel poorly about one's actions but only in the face of others' judgment, never ever beyond it. 

Jude sat in the emboldened silence, lights now seemingly fixated on him. Before he had been enrobed with darkness, sightless and as a helpless babe. But the light descending upon him revealed his nakedness like the knowledge of god. He felt it strike him in waves of humiliation. The sound of the front door slamming made him lurch. There was a long period after that of waiting for the feeling to dissolve and once he could move again he stood on weak legs. He meagerly picked up the shorts he had been wearing and tried to decide what kind of alcohol would best soothe his newest emotional abrasion. 

-

They sat at the kitchen table in a cool and wordless aire. Peter picked at the lukewarm remains of his ramen. Jude scrolled Bluedit and checked his email. The window next to them offered the common noises of any city to fill any silence that might have made it any more awkward, though it didn’t abate everything. Jude could see Peter in his peripheral, glancing at him every once in a while. He wondered how he could try to make the conversation he had earlier, menial and friendly: 

“How were your classes today?”

Jude’s voice was monotone,  
“They were fine.”

Peter nodded and silence had fallen over them,  
“Work was good, thanks for asking,” 

The derision heavy in his voice. 

Jude had countered with a look of austere.

Once he became tired of watching his empty bowl, he stood to put his dishes in the piling sink, leaving Peter to tend to himself. His footsteps seemed very loud. There was a horrifyingly long chance for eye contact as Jude turned around but he refused as a tenseness crawled up his spine at the mere thought. He was less than a yard from the door to his room when he heard Peter call out,

“Hey, Jude?”  
Then more quietly, 

“Isn’t that a song? Whatever. the next launch to Mars stream is in like 20 minutes. You told me last week you wanted to watch it.”

Fuck. Jude was far from an aerospace engineer, he had majored in computer science and biology. But he still admired the technology in the way a violinist might admire an operatic singer. His appreciation was proportional. He thought quickly for an excuse to but none came to mind and he faltered,  
“I’m not interested-”

“Bullshit, I’m gonna finish the dishes then we can watch. Also, you know I can’t turn on the TV.” 

Jude composed himself, speaking easier since Peter wasn’t yet in view,  
“It isn’t my fault you’re incompetent.” 

He managed to refind his decorum and put on a face of social graces,  
“I’m gonna grab a sweatshirt.”

Eventually they ended up in their usual unspoken assigned spots. He thought about sitting in the armchair to his left but decided that would constitute Peter asking him why he had done so. Peter currently seemed very busy reading something on his laptop, eyes tracing carefully over, back and forth. Jude busied himself with finding the live footage on Redstream and once it was done he sought out inconsequential activities, checking the TV every couple minutes to see how the launch had progressed. 

Peter broke the system,  
“Jude,”

Jude took a deep breath before looking over,

“Remember how there are things you need to… Explain to me?” 

“You really don’t need to remind me, I’m perfectly aware.”

“You know what I mean, asshole. I want to know about...”  
He took a moment to fold through possible word choice,

Jude continued to stare at him boorishly as he thought,

“Something that you won't like.” 

“Then why the hell can’t you just Broogle it like a normal person?”

Peter’s frustration flurried,  
“Just... ugh. I want to talk about sexual-”

“Broogle! Your computer is right there!” 

“Jude, I already tried the whole sex thing, it isn’t about that. Just listen. Okay. It may have occurred to me after the thing that happened-”

Jude’s insides rolled,  
“Can we please not-”

“No. You explained to me before that you weren’t like that. You don’t do that whole thing because...?”

“Wow, that’s not only the most personal question you could have asked me, but you also have no reason to care,”  
His hands were folded together under his chin, elbows rested on his knees. 

“Please, I just... want to know. I’ve just been thinking about it, you know?”

This piqued Jude’s interest and he looked over with heavy eyes,  
“Whatever. Most people want to get off with other people. I don’t. End of story.” 

“Okay but what you want is...”  
Peter waved his hands, gesturing for him to finish. Jude continued looking entirely unimpressed, 

“What I want is to be left alone and not to be walked in on when I’m-”

“Alone on the bathroom floor with the door unlocked and the lights off... right. But you weren’t even-”

“I was! Okay? Just not in a way you would understand-”

“-Tell me anyway.”

Jude looked agitated enough to scream, 

“I’m still a human, okay? I like to be touched! And- And held. Like anyone else, yeah? I don’t know what sex for you was like with Molly but the whole part that isn’t... getting off is… Nice I guess. Ever see the word ‘touch starved’ in your database? For me, that’s all I have. It’s incredibly hard to find people who... want anything similar.”

Peter nodded, thinking for a long moment, pensively. He went back to reading on his computer and Jude decided this was a signal to return to his own devices, looking away. It didn’t last long before Peter spoke again,

“Show me then,”  
Peter had slid closer by a fraction and was now leaning forward with his left arm bracing him against the couch. His laptop had been laid aside.

Looking up in confusion, Jude let the words sink in,  
“Excuse me?”

A number of things happened in the moment that followed: Firstly, Jude felt his phone tumble out of his hand, discarded somewhere unimportant. Next, he felt a shout of alarm leave his throat. Lastly, he realized he was being physically moved and now towered over by a young man with dark blond curls and the most curious green eyes. He was now on his back, legs hanging off of the couch at an awkward angle. He was also certain that his face was flushed completely to his disamusement. Peter was left adjusting his position with both arms supporting his torso above Judes’, the heel of his hands digging into the couch for leverage. His own legs were also at an odd angle and he was left trying to find a more comfortable position as Jude came to his senses,

“What the hell, Peter!”  
His teeth were half clenched now.

“Hold on, I just need to move-“

Jude attempted to push him off but realized his attempt was in vain; Peter was in fact very strong compared to him. The Peter who had been born into the body originally had taken great care of it, pushing to evolve the muscles which were ripped over and over, reborn into someone sturdy and trim. Jude could see the sinew of his neck tuck and pull as he adjusted himself so both of Jude’s fighting legs rested between strong thighs. He felt suddenly so disconnected from his body, watching his limbs move separately from himself but still resisting. When that didn’t work he tried to reason,

“Peter listen to me, you don’t understand-”

“Yeah, I know which is why I need you to help me,  
His voice slowed to a half-whisper,

“What do you want?” 

Jude was silent for a moment as he felt the spacetime continuum warp around him, the multiverse splitting under the weight of his next words,  
“I want you to get the fuck off of me!”

Peter simply stared at him, as if looking for something in particular,  
“You’re lying.” 

“No, I am very serious.”

“No, you aren’t, your eyes are dilated.”

It seemed that the universe didn’t care for his whims, or at least Peter didn’t. He took one of Jude’s wrists, attached to an arm that was still trying to move him away. He pulled it back and pressed the tense hand against his waist. Jude flexed his fingers, feeling ever so slightly and against his own will, praying Peter wouldn’t notice. He above all else hated being wrong.  
Peter moved the second arm, stretching it out like dough, attempting to revoke the tenseness Jude forced in his frustration. 

He still grunted sounds of bitterness and resent as he flexed away with any strength he could give. The hand that wasn’t on Peter’s waist was put on his neck with great reluctance. For a moment he focussed on the skin under him, the determined eyes watching over. 

“Jude, stop. Come on,”

Peter was still speaking softly, a kind of knowing lingered in the small details of his face. The man he addressed was still as a board. He clenched his teeth, refusal brimming like fire on his tongue, 

“Please, can we just give it a chance?”

Peter loomed like a ghost, occultic, and his stare haunting. There was a tint in his eyes that spoke of an underlying intention that could have been desire or could have been something else entirely,

“I won’t do anything else you don’t want… I care about you. Please?”

Jude swallowed, letting the seeping thought marinate for a fleeting moment. And at that moment, that one alone, he was tainted by the idea of saying yes. It filtered through an arrangement of reasons, piled on top of reasons to say no, and no again and again. But somehow there was still that little ounce of possibility that screamed above these warnings, 

“Peter,”

His arms had laxed and his voice settled,

“Let go.”

Peter seemed hesitant but could see something new in the way Jude breathed and uttered his command. He let go of each wrist one at a time. 

Jude shifted himself into a sitting position. He didn’t avoid eye contact now, quite the opposite actually, and gazed very pointedly into Peter’s eyes. When he spoke next Peter was absolutely still, taking in every sound and scent, 

“You can touch me.” 

Peter moved almost immediately forward, awkward and off-balance while standing on his knees. He moved tentative arms with care not to scare Jude off, the skittish creature he was. The weight of his own arms sent a numb curiosity through Jude's shoulders and spinning through strings of nerves. He felt his breath falter in time with the heaviness of his heart. Reaching over his own neck with one arm, he felt vulnerable but in a way that sent him reeling with elation. Jude pulled his sweatshirt over his head and Peter reached for the bottom of his T-shirt as if he’d done it a hundred times before. The flow of their movement was not scattered and inept as he had expected; being virgin to each other alone was not enough to make it clumsy or uneasy. 

Peter spent an odd moment or so simply roaming over Jude’s chest, giving him a look to signal something. It took Jude a second moment to realize he was waiting for a demand,

“You want me to show you?”

Peter breathed out sharp, eyes wanton,

“Yeah,”  
And a slight nod.

Jude reached for his hands and layered his own on top. He ushered them over his skin and down his torso in a rugged manner, alluring and gratifying in equal measure. Generous bouts of relaxed pleasure sped through him in waves, his eyes refusing to close in fear of the feeling somehow vanishing. He focussed completely on their breathing, relying on it to assure himself of reality, willing the hands to ground him in Peter’s presence. There was a full and luscious vibrance in every finger, every square centimeter that seemed to border on having a life of its own. 

Fully receptive to every move, Peter pressed more firmly as he touched, massaging in order to loosen every nuanced muscle. The stronger man pulled one hand away, taking back his own initiative. He placed needy skin on Jude’s hip and gripped tight enough that it squeezed a sound out of him. This sound sent Peter into a state of disarray, looking down in what appeared to be confused but was clearly laced with some kind of yearning. 

The look Peter bore into him caused Jude’s constitution to fail, leaving his throat open enough to release another sound of terror and contentment, 

“Hey,” 

Peter slowed, now at attention,

“Take off your shirt.”

The exhilaration in Peter’s eyes was priceless and he slid the article from his body like a second skin. Once his chest was bare, Jude angled his fingers at his sternum and pushed him back. Now at his mercy, Peter watched Jude crawl on top of him, sending a grading strike through his spine and straight to somewhere not quite his groin but a part of his back that aligned with pleasure. He was now at Jude’s mercy and the hair of his bangs obstructed the view of pale and righteous eyes that demanded vengeance. Peter reached up and moved them away as if they had sinned against them both. 

Jude moved the reaching hands to rest on his lower back. When they moved too low he gave a depreciative look and Peter made sure not to do so again (to his own disappointment, it couldn’t be helped.) He relaxed into the feeling quickly, his insides bubbling. “Are you happy,” Peter asked in a whisper and Jude simply breathed out a warm puff of air into the crook of his neck. He relaxed himself, pressing into Peter’s very being as he felt the body bellow him rise and fall. His mere presence was enough to warm him, reaching for new intimacy here and there and he began carding his hands through Peter’s hair. 

“Does it feel good?”

At least he was quiet at he said it, Jude thought to himself,  
“Yeah.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Just… Shut up and rub my back.”

Peter’s retort was facetious,  
“You’re such an ass. Why can’t you be more like Stephanie?”

“This is really the moment you decide to bring up my sister?”

Peter grinned in sly amusement,  
“You don’t think about your sister when doing this? I know I sure-”

“You know, I really am in the perfect position to choke you out right now,”  
Jude had propped himself up to meet his eyes. 

Then, with a small and lingering smile, Peter managed the both of them so that he was sitting up as if thinking mildly of something either pleasant or possibly something contrived. He stood and Jude’s heart sank as he watched Peter walk behind where they had laid. The tall creature placed a hand on the back of the couch and looked down at him,

“The couch is hurting my back,”

Jude’s eyebrows arched at this,  
“So you’re just leaving me? All that just to put me by myself?”

Peter sent him a look that melted him to the core,  
“Don’t be stupid,”

Then turned around like an apathetic dismissal of the complaint. Jude, heart now thumping, stood and speed-walked forward, stepping out of his shorts as he went. 

Upon arriving in the darkness of Jude’s bedroom he was met with what could have been mistaken for a brick wall but was entirely too warm, too welcoming, and he found himself climbing Peter, arms slung over his shoulders and legs angling desperately for a hold. Peter’s own arms grasped his back with strong hands that tried to manage the newfound weight. It lasted less than a moment before he fell back onto the bed. The air fell from Peter’s lungs and Jude let out a childish laugh he wasn’t aware he could make. As his eyes adjusted he became very aware of the smile strung over Peter’s mouth while he attempted to retrieve the breath knocked from his chest. 

His nose dug into Jude’s collar, lips gracing his skin appreciatively. The foreign feeling made Jude shiver, cold air caressing his back and Peter's desperate hands rubbing the back of his calves. Jude continued exploring the shape of his head and neck, memorizing the texture of his hair. The shades being closed cast shadows and accentuated the stripes painted over their arms and faces. Peter reached up and pressed a kiss so faint to Jude’s forehead he might as well have been made of air. There was a period of waiting to see if Jude would oppose and when he didn’t Peter did it again, tenderly gracing his temple. 

Peter’s touch was like honey and wine and the sweet ripeness of July. Sharp and bitter kisses of early June that worried his neck, plucked his hands from their stillness and ate of them. Oh, to become that which you desire. As if they were both melting and amalgamating together from the heat of god’s wrath: It is an Abomination rung clearly in his ears as if he were now in a hallowed chancel. Jude’s entire being shuddered in ecstasy, the mere idea of such ruin fueling every cell of his body. Couldn’t he just have this forever? Was such folie a deux something shameful to desire? He couldn’t know. But he would covet such a moment for the rest of his life.

“Peter,” 

The word wasn’t direct enough for him to notice and he continued where he was, devouring Jude’s very being, face buried in his neck.

“Peter,”

The other man found himself enough to look at Jude’s eyes,

“Kiss me.”

Peter made another face of honest wonder,  
“You’re sure?”

While Peter’s bewilderment was refreshing, Jude concluded at that moment that he couldn’t care less about courtesy and pulled himself up to kiss Peter squarely. It was much more efficient than debating his own decision. The stronger man tensed for a moment in surprise. Upon realizing the new reality of his situation he melted like butter, caved into his impulse without glance or spared thought. Sensual words fell from Peter’s mouth between the meeting of lips, 

Safe, affirming, kindness that was indulgent.

Peter held his heart in his hands and ate of it. It was bitter -bitter but he liked it. Because it was bitter and because it was Judes’ heart. The poetry of it made him cry with malaise and tender affection. The world fell silent as his desire for touch screamed in every inch of movement. For a moment he pulled back and allowed his ears to focus on the undertone and low melody of Peter’s whispered nothings. 

He wasn’t sure how long they laid together, but he drowned himself in it like it was all that kept him living. Jude moved down and laid his head so his ear was pressed into Peter’s left chest. He listened to the gentle thud of a human heart. 

“What is this, Jude? Why am I aching?”

Jude gave him a look,  
“What do you mean, you’re aching?” 

“My chest feels full; I can’t breathe. I feel like if I moved I would fucking break.” 

Jude warmed, considering the similar feeling in his own chest, at the bottom of what he thought was an endless pit of nothing. 

“Well, I suppose you’ll have to die, I need to brush my teeth,”  
He ignored Peter’s grumbles of protest as he removed himself, tearing the stitches of comfort that bound them.

-

Peter pulled the toothbrush out of his mouth, still full with suds,

“What are we having for breakfast tomorrow?” 

Jude spit into the sink,  
“I won’t have time to make any. I have to be at orientation at-”

“Shut up, we’re having breakfast. You know, I should make you breakfast sometime,” 

Jude slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a howl of amusement, 

“What?! You think I can’t make eggs and toast? Just fucking watch me,”  
Peter spat into the sink then swished water in his mouth while Jude tried to floss over his own intermittent chuckling,  
“You’ll be sorry when you’re hungry tomorrow at work.”

“You can’t even run a laundry machine so what makes you think you can use a toaster? I won’t stop you. I’ll be home early so I might be back in time to watch the complex burn down.”

Peter sent him a mild glare. Eventually, Jude finished flossing and made his way back to his room, Peter following after to the door,

“Jude,”

He looked back,

“Do you want me to… ya know…?”

The corners of his lips turned up and he nodded, Peter’s own mouth parting as he smiled wide and bright. When he finished he went back to Jude’s room where the other man laid staring at the ceiling. He set his alarm, the realization hitting him that Jude’s own would stir him at an ungodly hour. He crawled into bed despite this, setting himself close. 

The silence was a comfortable one and allowed Peter’s thoughts to wander to the fleetingness of this single night. Perhaps when he woke Jude would change his mind, determine that there wasn’t a human alive that could give him peace. But perhaps it wouldn’t be so at all. Perhaps he would come home and find Peter in the living room, privilege him with even the barest hint of touch. And with that fantasy, the empty silence suddenly felt full of peace and hope. Jude broke it with a voice of disappointment,

“Shit… I just realized something,” 

Peter eyed him in the dark, 

“I missed the rocket ”

**Author's Note:**

> “Their blood shall be upon them.”  
> Leviticus 20:13
> 
> I know that this is just one of the multitude of pieces you have read thus far. And I know that this won't be the last thing you read tonight. But I hope it will stay with you in some way; I hope you can taste the heart of another being and recognize it as its own kind of love. Utmostly, I hope you can find it in yourself to see goodness in another.  
> I would also appreciate a comment. My goal here is growth and all criticism is duly accepted. I highly doubt this will gain enough traction to inspire people questioning asexuality and its merits but if you would like to have that discussion we can have that one too.  
> Thank you for your time and generosity,  
> ~ Hope


End file.
